


Phoenix

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Amortentia, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Morality, F/M, Femdom, Lapdance, Post-Canon, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Twenty-five years after the end of the war, Blaise finds what he needs in a Muggle nightclub.





	1. Orange

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [New Year's Countdown](https://newyearcntdown.livejournal.com) Advent Challenge.  
> The theme of the challenge is winter/holiday/New Year. My prompts are all going to be colours. You can tell which colour I used by the chapter name. :)

“Please welcome Phoenix!”

He’d always had a thing for redheads. Fiery and wild, they made life interesting. Smiling a little as he watched her, Blaise took a slow sip of his drink.

Tall and slender, her bright red – no, not red. _Orange_. Her hair was orange. Curly, and wild, and _orange_. Through the haze of the nightclub, Blaise watched her.

The stage was lit just for her. Warm lights highlighted her pale skin, reflecting off the glitter and diamantes stuck in her cleavage. The way she moved was mesmerising: slow and fluid, like a gently flowing stream. Her hips swayed in time to the music; the skirt she wore was short enough to give tantalising flashes of skin. Blaise licked his lips, tasting whisky.

Other dancers joined her onstage, but Blaise’s attention was firmly on her. There was no way he could lose her in the crowd, not with that flaming hair. His eyes followed her around the stage, watching as she played to the audience.

His stomach clenched as she knelt to accept a couple of bills being placed into the waistband of her skirt. A desperate kind of possessiveness clutched at him, tensing his muscles. This girl – this _woman_ – was his. He would brook no opposition. Downing the last of his drink as the music ended, he stood.

Gaining entrance to the backstage area was no problem, not for a man of Blaise’s means. He bypassed several security guards simply by meeting their eyes and continuing on. Down the hall, he could hear laughter and chatter. He would only be focussed on one voice that night, however. The door to the dressing room opened just as he was reaching for the handle.

“Oh!” A blonde woman stood before him, clad only in the skimpiest negligee decency would allow. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Blaise almost winced at her harsh tone. Curling his top lip, he straightened.

“Phoenix. Where is she?”

The woman opened her mouth, a sound of protest on her lips. Blaise did not hesitate. He was quite the accomplished Legilimens when he wished to be, and this Muggle stood no chance. He dug through her memories with silent ease, pulling out the images he wanted. He turned on his heel without another word, leaving her standing there in the doorway, her mouth hanging open.

His redhead had left already. The blonde had seen her dressing and pulling on an overcoat before exiting through a backdoor. Blaise lengthened his steps.

A blast of cold air hit him the second he opened the door. It had begun to snow in the time he had spent in the club. A harsh wind cast the snow at him in waves, causing him to have to shield his eyes.

“Who are you and why are you following me?”

A wave of magic washed over him, blasting him backwards. Blaise found himself shoved back against the cold brick wall of the club. The tip of what felt very much like a wand pressed into the sensitive skin beneath his chin.

“Speak.”

Her hair was even brighter up close. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I knew you were a Weasley.”


	2. Pink

“Then you should have known to stay the fuck away from me.”

Blaise could sense the barely-restrained magic emanating from her. His skin tingled and he smiled as his body heated with a strong sense of need that he had not felt in too long. The wandtip scraped against his chin as she removed it and spun on her heel. Before she could escape him again, he reached to grab her wrist.

“And why is that?”

Her eyes narrowed as she turned to face him again. The cold wind had already turned her cheeks and nose a bright pink, despite the heavy makeup – the lack of freckles was his clue – she clearly still wore. Blaise smiled again when she shot him a look of disgust.

“I could tell you were a wizard from across the club. You all have this, this… this _arrogance_ about you when you’re in the Muggle world.” Her eyes ran down his body, her teeth bared in revulsion. “It’s like you all believe that you are above them, just because you’re magical. You’re repulsive.”

Unable to help it, Blaise chuckled. The look on her face was too comical not to.

“Do you find me repulsive due to my arrogance, or the fact that I am a wizard? Because, I can assure you, the two are entirely separate things.”

The woman – Phoenix, he supposed he should call her until he figured out just which Weasley she was – clenched her hands by her sides. Thankfully, she’d stored her wand already. Blaise was not keen on the idea of her using it against him in a place where he would be hesitant to use his own to defend himself.

She stood there staring at him for the longest time. Blaise stared right back, both waiting for the explosion that was inevitably going to happen, and taking part in the rather pleasurable pastime of watching her skin slowly turning pinker with each passing second. She was not quiet when she finally spoke again.

“You’re arrogant _because_ of your magic! They aren’t separate in you anymore than they are in the guys my age!”

Blaise had to hold back another chuckle. He would not deny his arrogance; there was no point. He had a right to it, considering who he and his family were. Before he could make a response, however, she began again, this time even louder and more agitated.

“You’ve heard of my parents. You’ve heard of my family. You know that my uncles and aunts are all people who influence our world. Hell, you might even be a fan of ‘The Great Harry Potter’ for all I know.” She paused to glare at him when he snorted at this. Waving her free hand through the air, she continued, getting louder with each sentence. “Well, let me tell you something: I am sick of it. I am sick of the fame. I am sick of the press. I am sick of people thinking they know me just because I have a famous last name. So, whatever it is you think you are doing here, you can just forget it. I am not going back.”

Twisting her arm, she wrenched her wrist out of Blaise’s grip. With one last glare, she turned and stomped off down the street. Blaise leant back against the brick wall. He debated following her for roughly two seconds before deciding he would rather not have his balls hexed off.

This Weasley was intriguing. Her fiery temper matched her bright hair and pink cheeks. The maddeningly sweet scent that drifted from her made his head swim with a craving for her that no witch had stirred in him in years. Pushing off the wall, he straightened his clothing. He would have to keep an eye on this one.


	3. Yellow

Yellow was such an ugly colour. No matter the shade, or who wore it, it had the tendency to wash people out; make them look almost jaundiced. Not his Phoenix, though. Blaise had no idea how she managed it, but not even being saddled with a costume consisting mainly of yellow feathers could make her look bad.

He had gone over and over in his mind why he was so attracted to this woman. Lying in bed the night before, he had pictured her on the stage. Her wild hair, pert breasts, and plump arse were all factors, he knew. In fact, his body had insisted on demonstrating just how physically attractive he found her. Twice. He smiled at the memory as she stalked the stage.

“Let’s hear it for the lovely Phoenix!” a voice called over the club’s loudspeakers. The crowd let out a cheer loud enough that Blaise jumped. “Our crowd is eager for you tonight, Phoenix! How about another round?”

The club was full that night. Drunken men crowded around the stage, trying their best to paw his Phoenix. She kept her distance, however. Smiling and flicking the hem of the skirt she wore upwards to reveal bits of skin, she kept them all wanting more. Him, especially.

“One.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. Phoenix was holding one finger in the air, shouting over the jeers of the men closest to her.

“I will give out _one_ dance. A… personal gift for the holiday season.”

Even her voice sent tingles through him. He stayed still, merely watching as the drunken masses clambered for her.

“You heard it, folks! Who wants a personal dance from the delectable Phoenix?”

A shimmy sent feathers and glitter flying onto the stage. The crowd cheered, hands waving in the air. Blaise merely watched, his eyes locked on her. Phoenix strutted across the stage, the feathers barely enough to keep her modesty. Blaise’s eyes followed.

“Who will it be, gents? Who wants it badly enough?”

“You.”

Blaise smiled. He’d had a feeling that she knew he was there; knew he was watching. Now, standing in the middle of the stage, one hand extended towards him, she seemed to be trying her best not to glare at him.

“He’s the one I want.”

A shiver ran down Blaise’s spine. She certainly had a unique way of expressing herself.

“Bring him to me.”

The security guards who guided Blaise onto the stage whispered warnings and threats into his ear as they walked. He smiled benignly, knowing that, if he chose to, he could wipe the entire club out with a few choice words. He seated himself on the stiff wooden chair that had been placed in the centre of the stage and allowed the guards to tie his hands behind his back.

“Not to worry, boys. I wouldn’t dream of touching her without permission.”

The looks on their faces told him what they thought of that statement. It was true, though. If his Weasley wanted to play this game, he would play right along with her.

“No funny business,” one of the guards grunted at him as they left the stage. “We’re watching you.”

The entire club was watching, in fact. Lights glared down at him, heating him up and blocking his view of the audience. Sweat trickled down his back as he waited for the music to start and his Phoenix to begin.

It started slowly. A deep, thumping bass tone vibrated the stage, more felt than heard. The crowd cheered, whooping and catcalling. Blaise’s heartrate quickened as anticipation built in him. He couldn’t see her, but knew she was close. He could smell that maddeningly sweet scent on the air, even above the sweat and beer.

“I told you to leave me alone.”

He shivered. His mouth dropped open a little, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. She moved away again before he could respond.

The bass quickened, a guitar adding melody. The crowd hooted their approval, causing Blaise to wonder just what she was doing.

“Why didn’t you listen?”

Phoenix reached around from behind him to dig sharp nails into the flesh of his stomach. She dragged her fingers upwards, clawing at him. Blaise gasped, his muscles tensing.

“I find you irresistible, my dear.”

She growled. The hands left him. His skin stung where she had scraped her nails along it, but it was not unpleasant. The audience gasped just a second before she flung herself to her knees before him, all yellow feathers and wild, fiery hair.

“Bullshit.”

He couldn’t hear her above the music and the hooting of the crowd, but the word was clear. He smiled.

“You intrigue me.”

Her hands slid slowly up his shins. With her warm brown eyes sparkling up at him with a mixture of annoyance and anger, Blaise was incapable of looking away. The audience hooted again when she grasped his knees and spread his legs.

“You are the only woman who has caught my attention in years.”

She moved sinuously, arching her back and sliding up between his legs. From the crowd’s reaction, Blaise knew she was performing for them as much as she was for him. Something shimmered amongst the feathers, catching Blaise’s eye. Gold tinsel that had been woven through the feathers glittered in the bright stage lights. He licked his lips as she slid up his body.

“What do you want from me?”

She stopped moving when her elbows locked. Balanced on her hands, which were pressing into Blaise’s thighs, she shimmied, sending glitter, feathers, and tinsel flying onto the stage. Blaise gasped.

“Your name.”

She smiled. Blaise’s insides trembled.

“No.” Getting her feet beneath her, she bent at the waist, leaning in close to him. “And threatening to expose me won’t change that answer.”

The feathers and tinsel continued to spill onto the floor as she moved around the stage, now more playing to the crowd than paying attention to Blaise. Finding himself incapable of dragging his gaze away from her, Blaise smiled.

The bass thumped through his body. Phoenix still ignored him. Blaise shifted in the chair, the rope binding his wrists beginning to itch. The audience whooped and catcalled as she danced for them, shaking and shimmying enough that the feathers and tinsel were starting to fall more consistently. She was now more exposed than Blaise had yet seen, with bits of pale skin showing between the yellow feathers. His whole body tingled with anticipation. When she reached him again, she flashed him a wicked grin before draping herself across him.

“Miss Weasley.”

Blaise let out an involuntary moan. Her long legs were spread before them, and her back arched. Rolling her hips slowly, she ground into him. He began to harden immediately. Arching her back further gave him a perfect view of her breasts as she moved on top of him. Reaching up, she draped her left arm around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

“Miss Weasley?”

Blaise’s mind was swimming. His cock hardened with each roll of her hips.

“That’s all you get.”

With that, the music halted, the lights clicked off, and she left the stage. Blaise gasped at the loss of her weight on him. Licking his lips, he glanced down. His trousers were tented and his body trembled. Still, he smiled. _Miss Weasley_. It was all he wanted.


	4. Purple

Blaise had resisted the urge to follow her home from the club. It was a close thing, but he had resisted. It was maddening, however. Trudging through the sludge on the street, he sighed.

He had not felt this level of interest in a woman in many years. For the one woman to capture his attention to turn out to be a Weasley, well… it was difficult. The difference in their ages made it even more so. Having spent the better part of the past twenty-five years in Italy, Blaise had not kept up with the Weasley family’s breeding habits and, therefore, he had no idea which one of them could be her parent, other than the fact that she could not be Potter’s spawn. The Potter children’s births had made the news even in Italy, unfortunately. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the thoughts of her from his mind. It would not do to not be paying attention on his first trip into Knockturn Alley since his return.

Knockturn, as always, was much darker than Diagon. Slouched people scuffed their way down the street, ignoring each other as much as possible. A mockery of Muggle fairy lights twinkled in many shop windows, a concession to the season. Blaise held his head high as he made his way towards Borgin and Burkes. He was well past feeling ashamed for patronising the shops in Knockturn. Why should he care about the opinions of people who probably didn’t even remember who he was?

“You look like a well-to-do gentleman…”

Blaise tried to ignore the woman standing outside Strix, Knockturn’s version of an owlery. She was insistent, however.

“Would you like to take a look at our latest range of birds, sir?” Her voice was soft and oily, encouraging him to enter the store. “I’m sure we have what you need.”

His top lip curling, Blaise tried to side-step the woman. Her gnarled-looking hand reached out to grasp his wrist, however. Yanking it out of her grasp, he stumbled backwards, knocking into someone behind him. He was about to apologise when an overwhelmingly sweet scent invaded his senses. A very familiar sweet scent.

“Watch where you’re… Are you stalking me?”

Phoenix’s voice started out haughty. Once she realised who had ran into her, it took on a harsh tone of combined disbelief and dislike. Straightening, Blaise sent the woman from the owlery scuttling back to her shop with a well-placed hex. When he turned back to Phoenix, she was staring up at him from beneath an over-large black hood. Taking a deep breath caused his head to swim.

“I have no need to stalk you, my dear. I can see you any night of the week, if I choose.”

Clutching a small bottle to her chest, Phoenix glared at him. “Pig.”

Blaise chuckled. “That may very well be true, Miss Weasley.”

Running his eyes over her, he couldn’t help smiling. She stood almost a full foot shorter than him naturally, but the wildness of her flaming hair held the hood of her cloak up to beneath his chin. Swathed in the black fabric, she would have been unrecognisable to anyone other than those who knew her well, he assumed. The only reason he had recognised her was due to the familiar scent that clung to her skin. His eyes stopped on the bottle held in her hands.

“Is that…?” Realisation hit him so suddenly he gasped. “Amortentia.”

It all now made sense: the Muggles clambering for her and her alone; his own violent attraction to a random woman he’d found in a strip club, of all places. Amortentia could cause such sudden devotion in those caught unawares. A small smile touched his lips as she tried to cover the potion more effectively with her hands.

“What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” Blaise paused, his smile widening. “Except for the fact that what you are purchasing is clearly not properly brewed, of course.”

“Fuck off. It works, alright?”

Phoenix pushed past him, heading into the apothecary that sold the bottles of potion. They were all tinted various shades of purple, with a pearlescent sheen, the potion swirling of its own volition inside the bottles. Blaise let out a sound of amusement.

“I could brew it perfectly for you.”

“ _Of course_ you could.”

Blaise could hear the sarcasm laced heavily through her voice. Reaching for her elbow, he pulled her to a stop.

“All I would ask in return is your time.”

She spun in his grasp, her brown eyes flashing. “My time? Is that it? Not…” Her gaze dropped down towards Blaise’s crotch, causing him to smile. “You’re not demanding sex?”

Smirking in a way that he knew would nettle her, Blaise shook his head. “I have no need to demand anything from you, my dear.” Reaching into his cloak, he drew out a business card and pressed it into her hand. “I can guarantee that you will be safe with me.”

The potion in the bottle she held swirled wildly as she held it out to examine it. The purple was Blaise’s first giveaway that the potion had been brewed incorrectly. A properly brewed Amortentia should have a purple tint to it, yes, but it was a red-purple, not a variety of shades of plain purple.

“You can brew it correctly?”

Blaise released her arm, knowing that he had grabbed her attention completely. “Indeed I can.”

Phoenix examined the bottle, then him in turn. She turned to toss the bottle back onto the pile before tucking his card into the folds of her cloak.

“You’re still an arrogant pig.”


	5. Red

Blaise tried to concentrate on the potion. Amortentia was a difficult potion to brew correctly and one little slip would have his work turning out as bland as the mess he had seen Phoenix purchasing. There was a problem, however.

“So, the potion needs to have a red tint to it?”

Blaise blinked. Phoenix stood on the opposite side of his worktable in Zabini Manor, her hands planted flat on the surface. Leaning forward, she gazed intently into the cauldron he was working with. Her presence in his workroom was not his problem, however. His problem was the fact that, every time she bent forward, he got tantalising glimpses of red lace. The shirt she wore was just loose enough so he could see down it, but not loose enough that he could see anything beyond the very edge of her bra. Pressing his lips together, he let out a sigh through his nose.

“Yes. It should turn almost a grape red before it is ready.”

“With that pearlescent sheen to it?”

“Indeed.”

When she fell silent again, he continued his work. The potion was not the most difficult that he had ever made, but it was close. Not having kept up with the potions periodicals, he had kept his skills sharp by filling orders for friends and family. Still, this was a potion that required all his skill to brew correctly.

“That sheen…”

Blaise bit his tongue when Phoenix leant forward again. Her breasts pushed upward every time she breathed, causing the red lace to move gently. He cleared his throat.

“Is the pearlescent sheen that every Amortentia potion should have.”

“It….” She paused, leaning even closer, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “It’s starting to smell.”

The potion at the moment was a deep purple, with no hint of red yet. Blaise knew that there should be no smell yet, but he leant forward anyway, taking a deep breath. Phoenix’s sweet scent washed through him, sending his head swimming. He kept his eyes open, looking his fill at the soft curve of her breasts clad in the red lace.

“Do you smell it?”

With her breasts right in front of him, her scent in his nose, and her big brown eyes staring up at him, Blaise’s mind was swimming. Licking his lips, he leant back.

“Not yet, no.”

She smirked. “Liar.”

With the addition of a pinch of powdered bicorn horn, the potion entered its last stage. The pearlescent sheen intensified as Blaise stirred it. Trying to concentrate, he had to admit that the scent of the potion was beginning to intensify. Whatever the sweet scent was that Phoenix favoured mingled with the scent of a warm summer’s day in Italy, and a deep, earthy scent. He allowed his eyes to close as he breathed deeply, stirring the potion the required twenty times clockwise and fifteen anticlockwise. When he finished stirring and reopened his eyes, it was to find Phoenix staring up at him, her hands still planted flat on the surface.

“What do you smell?”

Blaise’s eyes dropped to her breasts. It was heady, having her so close to him while breathing in the scents the potion produced. He licked his lips.

“Italy.”

“Really?” She leant further forward, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as her gaze dropped downwards. “Are you sure that’s all you smell?”

He was hard, he knew. There was no way he could have prevented it, not with her displaying the red lace every time she moved. He refused to try to hide it, or show shame, however. Leaning forward into the fumes of the potion, he smiled.

“And you?”

“A lady never tells.”

Chuckling, Blaise bottled the potion in a plain bottle. “Your potion, Miss Weasley.”

She held the potion up to the light, examining it closely. Blaise watched her, enjoying the movements she made. When she smiled, his breath hitched.

“It seems your arrogance has paid off, Mr. Zabini.”

Without another word, she spun on her heel and showed herself out. Blaise was more relieved than anything else. Her leaving meant he could settle down into a soft seat by the fire and take care of his problem. And he proceeded to do just that, picturing her breasts clad in that red lace.


	6. White

Snow fell softly as Blaise made his way through the Muggle street. The club was well hidden down a backstreet, but it hadn’t been too difficult for him to find that first time. The thump of bass music had been a dead giveaway. Rubbing his hands together, he huffed out a breath that was mostly white mist.

It had been three days since he had brewed the Amortentia for Phoenix. He hadn’t been back to the club in that time, and she had not contacted him. This obsession he felt with her could not be healthy, he knew. But, as long as it lasted, he was not going to object. At the very least, he was getting a decent store of wank material out of their interactions.

These past three days had been punctuated by images assaulting his mind. Red lace, orange hair, and yellow feathers all drifted through his mind’s eye at random times of day. He had stayed home, allowing himself time to take care of any inconvenient erections the thoughts produced if he focussed on them too much. But it seemed that his memories of her were not enough. The urge to go and see Phoenix in person had been nearly overwhelming. His stomach squirmed in anticipation.

“And here I thought I’d gotten rid of you.”

Blaise froze. He’d turned down the alley the club entrance sat in and had been lost in his thoughts. The sound of Phoenix’s voice had been unexpected, causing him to take a couple of steps backward. His eyes ran over her as his heart thudded.

“I had to come see if the potion worked, did I not?”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that the only reason you’re here?”

Her gaze dropped downwards, making it clear she was staring at his crotch again. Blaise smiled.

“Of course. What other motive could I possibly have, Miss Weasley?”

Leaning against the wall of the club, she shifted her weight. Despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing on display, Blaise still took the time to look her over. Her delectable body was covered with a thick, white coat, hiding her curves quite effectively. Her hair had been tamed with a band, but it still curled wildly around her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink with the cold. Fat, white snowflakes sat in her hair. She looked… delicious. Pushing away from the wall, she took a couple of steps towards him.

“Why don’t you tell me if it’s working?”

Undoing the top buttons of her coat, she leant forward. Blaise bit his tongue to prevent himself from swearing out loud. She wore one of her stage costumes beneath the white coat. Pieces of white and silver tinsel and glitter fell to the ground as she breathed. The smile she wore told Blaise she had noticed his immediate reaction. Leaning forward, he took a deep breath.

“You smell…”

“Yes?”

“Like Italy.”

She chuckled, low and knowingly. “I figured.” When she sobered, Blaise frowned. “I actually wanted to thank you. I have earned nearly double the tips I normally do in the past three days.”

Blaise smiled. “You are very welcome, my dear.”

“Don’t get any ideas. You’re still the most arrogant prick I have ever met.”

Blaise’s smile widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You, ah… Might want to take care of that.” Her eyes flicked downwards again. “They won’t the _two_ of you into the club.”

With a swish of her coat, Phoenix turned and stalked back into the club. Blaise glanced down. He was hard. Again. He sighed. Glancing around, he spied a darker corner of the alley. The soft, white snow turned to a greyish sludge as he walked purposefully towards the corner. If he was going to do this, then he would get it over with quickly. Leaning back against the wall, he cast a Notice-Me-Not charm and unzipped his trousers.

Closing his eyes, he palmed his cock. Images drifted through his mind rapidly. Phoenix on stage, yellow feathers falling around her. The sensation of having her weight grinding on his cock through his trousers. The red lace of her bra. Her breasts pressing up towards him as she leant forward and breathed deeply.

Blaise grunted. His cock twitched, seeming to harden even further. Stroking his hand quickly, he bit down on his bottom lip. The sweet scent that was uniquely _her_ invaded his senses again. Leaning forward, he increased his pace.

Heat swirled through him. His heart pounded. His breath hitched. Merlin, but he wanted her so desperately. His skin tingled as orgasm drew closer. He let out a stifled moan as he focussed on the firmness of her arse as it had pressed into him and the plumpness of her breasts as she moved on top of him.

When he came, it was with a deep groan of satisfaction. His body spasmed, shooting his release into the white snow ahead of him. It blended in rather well, Blaise thought nonsensically as his body trembled. It took him a few minutes to recover, and when he did, he removed the Notice-Me-Not, cast a cleansing charm, and headed into the club.


	7. Silver

Bass thumped and lights flashed as Blaise entered the club. His body still tingled with the aftermath of his orgasm, causing him to smile. Ordering a whisky from a waitress who passed, he took a seat at a table in the middle of the audience. Leaning back into the chair, he allowed himself to relax as he watched the first few girls’ routines.

Phoenix knew what she did to him; she _had_ to. And, as far as Blaise could tell, she did it on purpose. Perhaps it was a hangover from her profession. Making men want her was how she made her living, after all. Still, he couldn’t help thinking that this was different. Surely him smelling her sweet scent in the Amortentia potion had to mean _something_. Taking a small sip of his drink, he shifted in his chair, enjoying watching the girls dancing on the stage.

He’d never experienced anything like this before. For a woman to have this kind of power over him without him having even touched her yet… he shook his head. No, this had to be more than a passing infatuation. His mind wandered over their interactions from the past few days. Nothing about them was extraordinary, as far as he could see. He would have realised if she had been using some kind of mind magic on him, or if he had been dosed with a potion. Having come through the war, he had schooled himself in the wandless techniques involved with recognising drinks that had been tampered with. None of his drinks at the club had been spiked with anything more than an excess of whisky. And he definitely wasn’t complaining about that.

“…the lovely Phoenix!”

Blaise’s head jerked up. He had missed most of the show. Daydreaming about Phoenix was not a habit he wished to get into, but it seemed that she was capable of overriding even his best intentions. Warmth spread through him, causing him to smile as she strutted onto the stage.

The bassline began slow and quiet this time. Phoenix stood in the middle of the stage, her back turned to the audience. The Muggles were already beginning to move to the edge of the stage. Clad in a long, black gown – there was no way anything made with as flimsy a material as what she was wearing could be called a coat – Phoenix began to shimmy. Blaise smiled as bits of silver glitter and tinsel began to fall from beneath the gown. The audience whooped as she spun. Silver sparkled in the flashing lights as the glitter and tinsel flew from her. His smile growing wider, Blaise leant forward, pushing his whisky aside.

The very edge of the gown was trimmed in yet more silver tinsel, this time a long strand that Blaise usually saw strung in the windows of shops. The ends waved loose as Phoenix moved. Her hips swayed in time to the bassline and her hands waved through the air in fluid movements. The knowing smile she wore sent shivers through Blaise yet again.

“Oh, yeah, baby!”

Blaise tried to ignore the rest of the audience. He much preferred to believe she was dancing for him and him alone. One man in particular was difficult to block out, however.

“That’s it, honey. Take it all off!”

Tall and muscular, the man made his way towards the front of the stage in a weaving pattern. He had clearly had too much to drink. Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

“Lookit those tits!”

Phoenix continued to dance, pieces of glitter and tinsel still falling from her. Blaise’s hands clenched.

“Fuuuck…”

Phoenix strutted to the opposite side of the stage, away from the man. When he began to follow, Blaise’s entire body tensed.

“C’mon baby! Get it off for me.”

Casting the wandless Stinging Hex was unintentional. At least, that was what Blaise told himself. The man yelped and stumbled back away from the stage, holding his backside.

“What the fuck?”

Blaise sat back in his chair in time to see Phoenix’s eyes flash to him. He raised an eyebrow at her as she made her way back towards his side of the stage.

“One last time this year: let’s hear it for Phoenix!”


	8. Brown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the last chapter. I sucked at managing to keep up with the twelve stories/chapters I promised for the fest, but I did make the eight required for the net level down. Even if the last two are being posted a day late. -_- I promise to do better this year, if i participate! :)  
> Hope you all enjoy it!

“So, what? You’ve taken to hexing my customers now?”

Unable to help it, Blaise smiled. Phoenix’s sweet scent, combined with the earthy and warm scents he always smelled in the Amortentia potion, washed over him as soon as he stepped out the back door of the club.

“You aren’t the first man to develop an obsession with me, you know, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

Breathing deeply, Blaise turned towards her voice. A harsh wind blew down the street, wafting her scent to him and sending delightful little vibrations of pleasure through him. There was something thrilling about being this close to her, but he knew he shouldn’t show it. Allowing his lips to quirk up into a small smile, he inclined his head.

“I am fully aware that you make your living duping men into wanting you.” His smile widened as insult crossed her face. “But you cannot expect me to just sit there and allow some filthy Muggle to behave that way. And, before you start, I would have done it no matter who was on the stage, so please do not consider yourself a special case.”

Her top lip curled, an expression of disgust that Blaise was incredibly familiar with by now crossing her face. “You arrogant pig.”

“You’re starting to sound like a broken record, my dear.”

This time, it seemed as though insulting him was not enough. Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer, her eyes flashing.

“You come into my workplace. You follow me. You drag my attention away from the regulars. You track me down in Knockturn. You make me…” Her voice faltered. “That potion is…”

Huffing out a breath, Phoenix threw her hands in the air and turned from him. Blaise blinked, surprised. A thought began to nag at the back of his mind, but he knew better than to voice it just yet. When she spun back to face him, her eyes were shining the brightest brown he had ever seen. He shivered.

“That potion you made for me. Was it real?”

The nagging thought began to take shape. Blaise inclined his head. “It was.”

The wind blew down the street, causing Phoenix to wrap her arms around herself. The beginnings of a snow flurry started to push through, the flakes getting caught in her wild hair. With her eyes wide, she looked much younger than she must be. Blaise licked his lips as she stepped closer again.

“Did you know what you were going to smell in it?”

His smile widened a little more. “I have smelled Italy in it since I was a teenager. It is the place my family come from and the one country I feel at home these days.” When all she did was stare up at him with those wide, big brown eyes, he let out a tiny sigh, knowing he needed to elaborate. “Smelling _you_ in it was a surprise, however.”

Blaise did not know which one of them began it. What he did realise, after a few minutes, was that he was sat in a sludgy mess in a Muggle street, with Phoenix straddling his hips. The mud beneath the thin layer of snow was a revolting brown-black and stuck to every inch of his woollen suit that it touched. It didn’t seem to matter to Phoenix, however. Rocking her hips, she smiled when he gasped. Leaning forward, she took a deep breath against his throat.

“I want you.”

Blaise opened his mouth to suggest moving positions, but she moved too quickly for him. A wash of magic opened his fly, allowing her hand to slip inside, already lubricated. Blaise’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re going to come for me. Long and hard and messily. Then, and only then, will I take you home. And you will do it again.”

Blaise highly doubted he had that much stamina, even with her assaulting his senses in every way. He did not voice that opinion. It wasn’t worth it. He groaned when she twisted her hand. 

“You’re going to satisfy me, Mister Zabini.”

“Blaise,” he gasped as his muscles clenched.

Phoenix hummed. Leaning in to bury her nose into his throat again, she quickened her pace.

“Blaise.”

Blaise shuddered. It had been a long time since anyone had said his name with that kind of lustful intonation.

“Rose.”

Staring up at her, Blaise blinked in confusion. The pleasure rocking through him had his mind swimming, blissfully blank. Leaning back again, Phoenix stared down at him. The deep brown of her irises had been swallowed whole by the black of her pupils.

“My name is Rose.”

“Rose…” His voice was strained. “I – I…”

“Come for me.” She twisted her hand, sending Blaise’s mind spinning again. “Now.”

He complied. His mouth fell open, letting out a strangled moan as his release spilled over her hand. The question of whether it was _him_ Phoenix had been smelling in the Amortentia potion was now thoroughly answered. No, not Phoenix, he mentally corrected himself. _Rose_. He let out a satisfied sigh as he fell back against the wall of the club, his breath coming in harsh pants.

“Oh, no. Don’t think you get to relax just yet. You have work to do.”

The last thought that Blaise had before Rose side-along Apparated him out of the filthy brown sludge was that he wouldn’t object to whatever task she put him to.


End file.
